Lone Tree

by O'Keefe, Bobbie

  Carl Henry knew a losing situation when he saw one. He turned away and shuffled off in a crippled gait he hoped would wipe away suspicion.

  “Jodie,” he heard again. Then when he heard a car door open and close, he knew the pretty little heifer was back inside the car. He wanted his hands around the old bitch’s throat even more than he wanted them on the other one’s tender young flesh.

  Because he didn’t hear a car engine start up, he passed the station wagon and shambled on to the corner of the store and around it, then waited. Enough cars filled the lot that no one would connect him to his unless he led them to it. He stood in the alley behind the store until he finally heard a car start up, then he walked back fast enough that he caught sight of the sedan’s tail as it left the parking lot. Hate darkened his vision so much that he saw nothing other than those taillights.

  Then he strode to the beat-up-looking station wagon, threw the groceries into the back seat and he drove out of there.

  He didn’t return to the highway. It might be safer taking a roundabout route. Back roads would get him to Lawary by tomorrow and that was soon enough. The memory of the teenager in her cutoff shorts lasted until he got out of town. Millicent came to mind, and he played with her for a mile or so, but she faded, too. Then his mind lit on Jackie Lyn and couldn’t get off her.

  She couldn’t stand behind her man, help him out with an alibi when he needed it. It was too much to ask for her to make a home for him, to honor the vows she’d made. Anger heated his face.

  The radio announcer interrupted some hillbilly crooner to report a tornado alert. Braking in the middle of the road—no traffic to worry about—he listened to the broadcast. He’d noticed a map in the glove box, pulled it out and checked it, then breathed easier. He was a safe distance from the danger zone but had been heading toward it.

  The sky above him was bright and clear, and he wanted to keep it that way. Remembering a clump of trees about a mile back, he turned around and headed there. Night was closing in and he needed a place to roost anyway. The trees were ugly scrub, but would offer shade for tomorrow and should hide his car. He had grub with him, so he could spend as long as he wanted to right here.

  He’d take his time getting to Jackie, and then on to Lone Tree. He didn’t want to lose it again, like he had in Farber. That’d buy him a fast, one-way ticket right back to the wrong side of a cell door.

  Yep. Better to take his time.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lainie hadn’t taken an easy breath all day.

  It wasn’t tornado season, but expectations were that today’s watch would turn into a warning at any minute. A string of counties had been hit, leading straight toward them. Each funnel, though not lasting long, had done damage. Another could form anywhere at any time and be of any intensity.

  The most ominous indication of a tornado striking them came from Nelly. He said one was in the air; he’d smelled it. He’d finally found his storm, and she wondered if he was resting better because of it. She wasn’t.

  With earthquakes, one didn’t get put on watch and wait to see what was going to happen. An earthquake just hit. She wasn’t sure she preferred that to this or not, but she’d rather be anywhere than where she was—California, New York, Hawaii, you name it.

  Miles had asked her to stay close, which she’d planned on doing anyway. With Nelly or tornadoes, she wasn’t going to argue. Then Reed found her in the storage closet that doubled as a tornado shelter. Since it was the safest place to be, she’d decided to inventory supplies.

  “Stay put,” he barked, sounding like a boot camp sergeant, then he strode away to take care of the next order of business. She stepped out of the closet into the hall to give a hard look to his back, but she still wasn’t going to argue with Nelly or tornados.

  When she ran out of envelope boxes to count, she went to the dining room, which had turned into the waiting room. Miles tried to interest her in a game of dominoes, but she couldn’t concentrate. She walked the hall. At the front entranceway Nelly opened the door in her face.

  His weathered countenance softened as his gaze fell on her, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Don’t fret, little missy.” His voice was a comfort in itself. “God’s storms are natural. We do what we can and we be fine. It’s the man-made storms we got to be afraid of.”

  She felt her brow double its wrinkling effort. What did he mean? He knew something, saw a problem approaching between her and Miles? “Uh...was that supposed to be reassuring?”

  He chuckled. “I just tellin’ you I still uneasy. This here storm I didn’t know nothin’ about till this mornin’. And I still be afraid of somethin’ else, somethin’ bad, hittin’ us.”

  Letting it go, she walked to the dining room with him. Whatever problem he sensed would present itself in its own time, and she had to get through this storm before she could contend with the next one.

  He hobbled over to where Miles and Rosalie sat at the table, domino blocks between them. Miles watched him approaching with a resigned look. “Just as a matter of curiosity, Nelly, have you ever lost a game?”

  “Lost me a game over in Coleman County some years back.” He settled in the chair between them, at the end of the table. “Man name o’ Vernon, he was. One good domino player.”

  With a heavy sigh, Miles drew his blocks. “He musta been.”

  Lainie watched until the second domino was matched to the first one and then her feet just had to move. She turned to walk the hallway again and found Reed behind her. It appeared he’d been there a while, just studying her.

  “So,” he said. “You were okay with the steaks? And potato and cucumber?”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “Huh?”

  “Just wondering what you want to eat on the next campout.”

  “Oh. Well, uh...” She rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t think, which didn’t matter anyway because he’d do the deciding, packing and cooking. She walked around him. “Nice try. I’ll be okay, Reed. We work through our nerves in our own way, I guess.”

  She wished the hallway were longer. When she next stopped in the dining room doorway, Reed sat on a chair sideways to the table with his feet propped on another one, reading a paperback. He looked up, she lifted her shoulders, and he went back to his book.

  Randy stood next to Nelly’s chair, munching on an apple and watching the domino game. Carter was on the phone with his wife in the corner of the room, Glen Charles was home with his family, and Luke was probably in the bathroom again. He was the only one besides Lainie who showed nerves. The overall attitude seemed to be wait, see what happens, and deal with it when it gets here. They weren’t totally nonchalant, however. Everybody seemed to have an ear tuned to the battery-powered radio on the sideboard that was issuing storm progress reports.

  She had to find something to do besides pace. Looking at Reed and his book, she thought of the whodunit she’d started last week, but it was in her house. She ventured into the kitchen, looked outside and thought she might get a little wet but that was no big deal. The volume on the radio got louder the same instant she stepped outside but the sound barely registered.

  Wind and rain grew rapidly, and she had difficulty negotiating the short distance to her house. When she reached her own door, the wind took the screen away and it flew out of sight. She got inside the house and used every pound she had to force the door closed.

  She stood rooted in place, afraid to move. The house had grown dark and the noise of the storm was accelerating at an alarming rate. It sounded like a train approaching at full speed. Breaking out of her stupor, she raced into the kitchen and ducked under the heavy pine table. She placed her head between her knees and locked her hands at the back of her neck. She prayed.

  Windows exploded and rain poured into the room, even reaching her beneath the table. Then the sound receded as rapidly as it had arrived, and the room grew lighter. The puddle of water in which she sat got deeper. She risked raising her head.

  Shakily, she c
rawled out from under the table and got to her feet, and then stared at the debris strewn over the floor. Her gaze fixed on a round, black plastic ring with broken glass attached to it, then finally she figured out it was the coffee pot. Cabinet doors were open; one hung by a single hinge.

  Rain pelted her. The shattered windows were allowing a lot of water inside. She got the mop. Maybe if she was fast enough, the linoleum could be saved. Then she stared at the floor. She needed a broom first, or a rake and then a broom.

  Miles burst through the front door, jerked to a stop and stared at her. She shook her head at the mess, at him. She noticed he was looking up, so she did, too—to dark sky and rain. She frowned. What had happened to the ceiling? Where was the roof?

  Reed was next through the door and then he froze in place when his gaze lit on her. Randy was so close behind him he bumped into him. Randy apologized, looked up and could only have seen sky and rain, but pushed the door closed anyway.

  “Lainie Sue, the main house is safest in a storm,” Miles said, voice and face strained. “Always.”

  “You could’ve thought for a year,” Reed said, “and not come up with a stupider move. You got a brain in there anywhere?”

  “Reed, I’m real sorry,” Randy said, “for tackling you like that. But you were headed out smack-dab in the middle of that twister.”

  Reed ignored him and glared at Lainie. “If a house was on fire, would you run into it or away from it?”

  The door opened and Carter and Luke entered. They looked up. “Well, now, how about that,” Carter said.

  “Can’t do a dad-gum thing till the rain quits,” Luke said.

  “Reed shouldn’t have let you out of his sight,” Miles said. “And Randy should’ve watched you better. Maybe I could’ve—”

  “Reed,” Randy pleaded, “don’t be mad at me for sittin’ on you like that. I’m real sor—”

  “Lainie,” Reed said, “if you ever—”

  “Stop it!” The storm continued to rage, but the people got quiet. Everybody looked at Lainie.

  “Uh...” she said. She blinked, swallowed. Carefully, she leaned the mop handle against the wall. “Excuse me.” She looked at the wet sky, then at her audience. “Yes, the roof’s gone.”

  She looked at Miles. “Yes, I was wrong.” She looked at Reed. “Yes, I was stupid.”

  Next was Randy, but he hadn’t scolded her for anything. Her gaze moved on to Carter, who gave her a bland look. Luke appeared uneasy, tipped his hat at her.

  She was drenched, cold and scared, and didn’t know what to do or where to go.

  Reed’s expression lightened a fraction. “Go to my place. Get warm.” He frowned. “Think it’s safe over there. Maybe I’d best check first.”

  “Main house just lost a couple kitchen windows,” Miles said. “It’s safe.”

  Lainie closed her eyes. She knew exactly how stupid, and how incredibly lucky, she’d been.

  *

  Fortunately they’d got only the edge of the storm, not the brunt of it. It had swiped by on Lainie’s side, leaving everything else, except for the kitchen windows and the screen door, intact. She moved in with Reed while repairs were made on her house. “My place or yours?” was a question that no longer needed asking.

  Today she’d taken his truck into town and left it to be serviced while she’d visited Jackie. He was clearing the table after supper, and she was searching her purse for the garage receipt, when she said, “Confound it!”

  Chuckling, probably at her use of the phrase, he looked at her. “What?”

  She held up Jackie Lyn’s credit card.

  “So?” It must’ve looked like an ordinary card to him.

  “Jackie’s card. I didn’t have mine—it was in my other purse—and I found a good sale,” she paused, decided she didn’t have to admit that the sale was on sandals. “So she let me use hers—and then of course I had to bring it home with me. Shoot, anyway. Now I’m going to have to go back.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  She hesitated. “I won’t be in town again for a week. She might need it, and it’s my fault.”

  “Why don’t you call her? If it can wait, maybe Randy can drop it off for you.”

  She reached for the phone. “Yeah, maybe.”

  *

  When Jackie Lyn’s phone rang, her gaze shot toward the man sharing the kitchen with her. He grabbed her wrist, making her drop the egg turner. She was frying eggs for him and now they’d burn and then he’d hit her again. She already hurt everywhere. Everywhere.

  He jerked her arm behind her back and twisted. She bent almost double as she tried to relieve the pressure and wondered helplessly at what point the bone would break.

  “Gonna be your boyfriend, is it?”

  “No. I told you, I don’t—”

  “And I told you how much stock I put in your word now, didn’t I?”

  When he increased the pressure, Jackie couldn’t hold a whimper back. He’d allowed her to put a robe on in order to cook his eggs, and the fabric hanging from her shoulder was perilously close to the gas flame.

  “You got one of those answering machines?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. The phone rang again.

  “Where?” He exerted more pressure.

  She squinted against the agony in her shoulder. “Front room,” she rasped out.

  The phone rang a third time. He let her go with a shove toward the doorway. She stumbled and had to grab the doorjamb for balance. “The eggs,” she said.

  He spun, jerked the skillet off the stove and threw it across the room. It hit the wall, splattering eggs and bacon grease, and clanged to the floor. He shoved her again, making her collide with the living room wall. The phone rang for the fourth time and the machine kicked in.

  Jackie’s recorded voice told the caller, “Wait for the beep and then tell me a story.”

  “Hi, this is Lainie. Just found your charge card in my purse. I’ll drop it off tonight if you need it. Jackie, are you anywhere around?” A short pause, then, “Okay, I’m on my way out anyway—”

  Jackie heard Reed’s voice in the background. He didn’t sound agreeable.

  “—to pick up a movie for tonight. I’ll slide your card under the door if you’re not home, so you’ll have it if you need it. See you soon. Bye.”

  Carl Henry’s head slowly swiveled toward Jackie. “And who might that be? Might that be the cute little blonde I saw you with today? She was a looker.”

  Please, Reed, talk her out of it. Get her to stay home.

  The grin on Carl Henry’s face was ugly. “She’s new around here. Who is she?”

  Jackie’s gaze flitted around the room, mind working furiously for something, anything, to distract him. At her silence, he charged across the room and slapped her open-handed. She staggered and was brought up short by the door. He pinned her against it, one hand cupping her throat while the other slapped her back and forth as he fired questions. “Who is she? Where’s she from? Talk to me, damn you!”

  “Lone Tree,” she gasped.

  He let her go. His attention seemed directed inward now, on his thoughts, not on her. But she knew better than to think the reprieve would last long.

  “Lone Tree,” he breathed, then repeated the words, stretching them out almost lovingly. “So it’s payback time—big time—tonight.”

  *

  “I don’t understand why this can’t wait,” Reed said for the third or fourth time.

  She reached for her coat. “Be there and back in an hour. And I’ll get a movie.”

  “What’s the hurry? Tomorrow or the next—”

  “Action adventure okay? What do you want?”

  “I want you to stay home.”

  Lainie liked action-packed adventure, the more unbelievable the better. Reed enjoyed something more realistic, with more meat to it. “Come on, tell me. My kind or your kind?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Though his aggravation didn’t ease, he seemed to give up. “Get both.”

/>   “We’ve been together too long.” She zipped up the black parka and searched her purse for car keys.

  He gave her a frowning, sideways look. “How do you figure that?”

  “We didn’t used to need two movies to get through an evening.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She found her keys and headed for the door.

  “Lainie?”

  “Hmm?” She paused, hand on the doorknob.

  “Just get one movie.”

  She grinned and left.

  The roads were clear and the car ate up the miles. If she didn’t take her time choosing a film, she’d be home too soon and he’d start grumbling again about how fast she drove. He had a lot of good points, but some faults, too—one of which was that he was too darn bossy, and another that he could nag relentlessly.

  Jackie’s place was first. Lainie rang the bell, waited, then opened the screen and stooped to slide the card under the door. When she placed her hand against the door for balance, it slid inward. Puzzled, she straightened.

  “Jackie?”

  No answer. Jackie Lyn didn’t always lock her door, especially when running out on a quick errand, and apparently this time she hadn’t even closed it properly. Lainie stepped inside, deciding the card would be safer next to the telephone, and then the phone message and the card would explain each other.

  A swish of movement made her jerk her head around and then a body ran into her, bowling her over, and the door slammed shut. Though the room was only dimly backlit by a nightlight in the hall, somehow Lainie knew it was Jackie she’d collided with. She rose onto one knee, more stunned than frightened. But when she got a look at her friend, she froze. Swollen and bruised, skin broken and bleeding, Jackie’s face was a pitiable sight.

  The other woman’s gaze was fixed on a point behind Lainie, and Jackie’s expression told Lainie she didn’t have time to get to her feet—nor could she effectively fight whoever it was behind her.

  So surprise was their only option. Lainie’s fear didn’t subside, but her paralysis broke. She hit the floor on her side, rolled, and thrust both feet up at a hovering form. One foot connected with something solid and hope rose in her that they had a chance. She heard a grunt and a sharp intake of breath. As the man doubled over she drew her leg back to kick his head, but he hadn’t been hurt badly because he caught her ankle and twisted.